The One To Hold My Heart
by poetzproblem
Summary: Quinn is happy with her life now—well, mostly happy. It's been a year since her relationship with Sarah had ended with a whimper, and while she hasn't exactly gone without female companionship, she does miss the stability and comfort that comes from being one half of a couple. She misses being in love with someone, because being in love on her own sucks as much as she remembers.


**Author's Note:** A companion piece to _My Life Before Me Undone_ from Quinn's perspective - yes, kind of a fanfic of my own fanfic but with a little extra. Set concurrently with that and before _Won't Spend Another Day Wondering_.

Eternal thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being the most awesome beta.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

* * *

 **The One To Hold My Heart**

* * *

 _I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart,  
but you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start.  
You put your arms around me,  
and I believe that it's easier for you to let me go.  
You put your arms around me and I'm home.  
~Arms, Christina Perri_

* * *

Quinn Fabray steps through the front doors of HarperCollins and immediately lifts her face to the warm afternoon sun, allowing a smile to curl her lips as she leaves the stress of work behind until tomorrow. She loves her job for the most part, but if given the choice between staring at the bland walls surrounding her desk or being outside in the fresh air—well, fresh by New York City standards anyway—she'll happily leave the office behind every single time. She's grateful that her job actually allows her the opportunity to offset a few of her ten hour days with an early afternoon here and there, especially on days as beautiful as today.

It's Thursday, and she has just over an hour until she's supposed to meet Rachel—enough time to make a stop at her apartment, drop off her briefcase full of manuscripts to be copyedited, and change into something more suitable for a leisurely evening in the park. She's looking forward to it. Sometimes, Quinn can barely believe that playing 'how was your week?' with Rachel Berry is a thing that she actually looks forward to, but she really does enjoy their weekly excursions. Quinn even finds Rachel's dramatic recitation of every little event that's happened in her life since the last time they spoke to be more endearing than annoying—a holdover of those too-tender emotions that she'd mostly put behind her in college. But sometimes, of course, Rachel's lack of filter results in Quinn biting into the inside of her cheek to keep from cutting her off in a less than polite way—also a holdover of those too-tender emotions. Or maybe she's just learned to consciously tame the bitchy streak that she knows she'll never completely purge.

In any case, Quinn is happy with her life now—well, _mostly_ happy. It's been a year since her relationship with Sarah had ended with a whimper, and while she hasn't exactly gone without female companionship, she does miss the stability and comfort that comes from being one half of a couple. She misses being _in love_ with someone, because being in love on her own sucks as much as she remembers.

She puffs out an irritated breath as she makes her way to her apartment, annoyed with herself for allowing _those_ thoughts to sneak into her head again. She should be over this ridiculousness with Rachel—her _friend_ whom she loves _as a friend_. She'd moved on. With Sarah. And now she's moving on _from_ Sarah. Quinn ignores the little voice that tells her that she probably should have grieved over the end of that relationship a little longer than she did, but the point is that her heart should not be backsliding into a hopeless infatuation with Rachel Berry. Because Rachel is still _Rachel_ , still steadfastly interested in dating _men_ , and apparently doing her own bit of backsliding right into the arms of her newly returned from London ex, Peter Kendrick.

"Asshole," she mutters under her breath as she pushes open the door of her apartment, and she's not entirely certain if she intends it for Peter or herself.

Quinn tosses her briefcase down on her sofa and begins to shrug out of her suit jacket as she pads into the bedroom, mentally shaking off those niggling _what-ifs_ and _could-have-beens_. She's past the stage of expending excess energy on the wanting of things that will never be. She prefers to focus on the things that she does have and the things that she's confident she can achieve with a little hard work and patience. Right now, what she does have are plans to spend the rest of the day with one of her closest friends.

They're supposed to meet at their usual spot outside of the zoo in Central Park, and Quinn is hoping that the relatively peaceful setting will help neutralize the weird tension that's been building in Rachel for the last few weeks. Quinn figures it's mostly the result of her first Tony nomination (that Quinn has heard about ad nauseam and would like to put on the backburner for a while even though she's so incredibly proud of Rachel), but she thinks some of it might have to do with whatever is going on with Peter. Again.

Rachel hasn't told her much—just that she and Peter had dinner and have decided to resume their friendship but not their romantic relationship. Quinn recalls hearing that qualification from Rachel enough times in the past, mostly in regards to Finn Hudson, to believe that it's only a matter of time until that line is crossed again. But that's one of those things that she's _not_ expending excess energy thinking about anymore.

Instead, she expends some energy on effecting a quick change into well-loved capris and a cotton tee, running a comb through her hair, and tossing her wallet into the small backpack that serves as a purse on the days that she goes exploring the city. Heading out, Quinn checks her watch and decides to make an impromptu stop at the Joe Coffee at Grand Central before she catches a train uptown—she's suddenly in the mood for an iced espresso, and she knows how much Rachel loves their iced soy chai latte.

The line at the coffee shop is short, and soon enough, Quinn is catching her train with drinks in hand. She's become a pro at subway surfing with her hands full, but at this time of the afternoon, she manages to find a seat for the short trip up to 59th Street. She sips on her espresso on the way, nearly finishing it by the time she walks the last half mile into the park and settles into an empty table outside of the zoo's café. She still has a few minutes to spare, so she digs into her backpack to free the book that she's been reading and loses herself in the pages while she drinks the last of her espresso and waits for Rachel to arrive.

She's not sure how long she's been waiting when she feels a prickle of awareness race over her skin, and looking up from her book, she sees Rachel walking towards her. Quinn ignores the familiar physical reaction to the tiny denim shorts that Rachel is wearing and smiles as she tosses her book down and rises to greet her friend with a soft, "Hey, you," and a welcoming hug.

"Sorry I'm a little late," Rachel apologizes with a smile. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"It's such a beautiful day that I didn't even notice," Quinn assures her, slipping her book into her backpack. "Are you ready to walk, or do you want to sit and talk for a while first?"

Rachel looks thoughtful for a moment. Quinn tries not to stare at the tip of her tongue as it darts across her lips, but it always seems to be a losing battle, so she's more than a little relieved when Rachel says, "Let's walk." Having the scenery to distract her is probably safer for her wandering eyes.

She shoulders her bag before lifting up Rachel's soy chai. "Brought you a present," she says with a grin, watching the recognition sparkle into delight in Rachel's dark eyes.

"Iced soy chai latte?" Rachel asks eagerly as she takes the cup.

"Of course," Quinn confirms easily.

She watches Rachel dive into her drink with gusto, laughing at her enthusiasm. Rachel blushes slightly at the attention. "Thank you, Quinn, but you really shouldn't have. Joe is out of your way."

"It's really not a problem, Rach." The one at Grand Central is only a few blocks from her apartment, and it's easy enough to catch a train to the park, and, "I like doing nice things for you." She'd spent too many of her teenaged years being anything but nice to Rachel, and she still feels the sting of guilt for some of the terrible things that she'd said and done. But really, she just likes to see Rachel smile like she is right now—that soft, pleased, almost shy one that makes Quinn's heart do things that it really shouldn't do if she wants to avoid falling into a complete and hopeless relapse of those too-tender emotions.

"Well, I like having nice things done for me, which is why our relationship works so beautifully," Rachel tells her innocently.

And yeah—there's that brief, little moment of Quinn imagining how beautifully a very different kind of relationship could work, but it comes and goes in the space of a single heartbeat. "Wow. I feel so valued," she quips.

Rachel's immediate, "You are," is said with such passion that Quinn has to look away to keep her from seeing the power such a simple vow can have over her, but then Rachel is asking, "Bethesda Fountain or Conservatory Water?" and the moment passes.

Quinn considers which path they should take and decides on the, "Conservatory."

With a wide smile, Rachel gestures theatrically with her arm and bows, almost like a herald would for their queen. "Lead the way, oh captain."

A giggle slips past Quinn's lips at Rachel's silly antics before she happily struts ahead of her. "Do your fans know what a geek you are?"

"Hey. All evidence to that nature has been skillfully buried by my publicist, thank you very much," Rachel insists as she quickly catches up.

Quinn flashes a playful grin. "So all those old high school pictures that I have of you wearing owl sweaters and knee socks will be prime blackmail material one day." She refrains from mentioning those incredibly short skirts because her feelings about them have always been far too complicated for words.

"I wasn't that bad," Rachel argues with an adorable pout.

"Well, your fashion sense gradually improved anyway." When her eyes meet Rachel's, they both smile knowingly. "Kurt," they say together, causing them both to laugh.

They fall into silence for a time after that, and Quinn is content to enjoy the gorgeous afternoon as they walk together, letting her mind drift along the edges of more trivial things—did she lock her desk drawer, does she need to pick up bread at the market, what kind of lotion does Rachel use because her skin is always so incredibly soft? Quinn really does enjoy these afternoons when she can forget all of her responsibilities for a few precious hours.

When they do feel the need for conversation, Quinn finds herself confessing to the less than enjoyable aspects of her job in addition to her increasing struggle with her own creativity. Her writing has so often been a kind of release for her—a way to work through the parts of her own life that she can't control through a medium that she absolutely _can_. Sarah had never understood that, wondering why Quinn would bother to devote so much of her scarce time to a hobby. But Rachel understands that it means more than that to Quinn and even assures her that, "Inspiration could be right around the next corner."

The only thing Quinn currently sees around the next corner is a young couple about thirty seconds away from entertaining their fellow park-goers with free pornography. She glances at Rachel, grinning when she notices the pink cheeks and embarrassed smile that tells her that Rachel has seen them too, and they share another laugh.

"Public indecency aside, I hope you're right."

Quinn feels Rachel's fingers curl around her biceps in a casual hold. "I'm always right, Quinn."

"And obviously still living in that fantasy world of yours," Quinn jokingly admonishes.

Rachel smiles a little sadly. "Not so much anymore."

Quinn absently catches her lower lip between her teeth while her thoughts rebelliously stray to Peter Kendrick and to Rachel's odd behavior since he'd come back into her life. She wonders if he'd said or done something to disappoint her—if he'd trampled all over her romantic fantasies of lost loves and second chances. Maybe Rachel has merely been trying to save face after Peter had broken her heart all over again. She vaguely feels Rachel's touch fall away in the moment before she finally voices one of those thoughts. "So does that mean that Peter the Great is still in the doghouse?"

Quinn notices Rachel's steps falter slightly, but she refuses to look at her, unwilling to see the lingering affection for that man shining in her eyes. "Peter isn't in the doghouse. We're friends," Rachel insists.

"You dated him for more than a year, Rachel," Quinn reminds her, hating the petulant tone that she can't quite leach out of her words.

"And we've been broken up for more than a year," Rachel responds quickly. "We're different people now, Quinn. There's no spark anymore."

The confidence in her voice pulls Quinn's gaze back to her. She suddenly feels far too exposed under those curious brown eyes, so she quickly looks away again. "Oh," she breathes.

Rachel turns away from her then, walking over to an empty bench and sitting down. Quinn suddenly feels off balance—she should have never mentioned Peter. She knows no good can ever come from talking to Rachel about the men in her life. Making her way over to the bench, she sinks down next to Rachel, noticing that her left leg is a little stiff from the walk (and the tension from their conversation). She absently kneads at the muscles of her calf, hoping to ease the ache there.

"So how did your date with deli girl turn out last weekend? Erin, was it?" Rachel asks into the awkward silence, effectively redirecting the focus of the conversation back to Quinn.

"Karen," Quinn corrects habitually, having mostly gotten used to Rachel's inability to remember the names of people she doesn't know. And since Quinn's date with Karen had been less than impressive to both of them and won't be repeated, Rachel won't be meeting her and really has no reason to remember her name now. She says as much to Rachel, keeping the details vague—after all, Rachel doesn't need to know that even though Quinn and Karen hadn't found much to talk about on their date, they'd both consented to activities at the end of it that didn't require much talking at all before they'd agreed to go their separate ways.

The rest of the conversation flows more easily, when Quinn isn't distracted by Rachel's lips, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between them, or the general warm and fuzzy affection for the woman sitting next to her that too often overtakes her rational thoughts and slips out from under the walls that she's built to protect her heart.

When Rachel (again) brings up the Tony Awards, Quinn offers her undivided attention, despite her mild boredom with constantly rehashing the subject. She's even less excited to discuss it when Rachel mentions not having a date, but Rachel is acting strange—stranger than her normal strange—and looking more flustered than Quinn has seen her in a long time, so Quinn smiles encouragingly as Rachel launches herself into a rushed, nearly breathless speech.

"As I was saying, I find myself without a plus-one for my very first awards show. And normally that would be perfectly fine…I'm an independent, successful woman after all…but I am nominated, and that's kind of a big deal. Well, for me," Rachel mumbles with a slight blush. "I know that I have a few friends that I could ask who'd jump at the opportunity to accompany me, but...but I don't just want a body to fill the seat. I want...I'd like to share that moment with...with someone who's important to me," she nervously stumbles over her words. "Someone who's always supported me and believed in me. And that person is," Rachel pauses, taking a breath as she runs that tongue of hers across her lips again, "it's you, Quinn."

Those words feel like a thousand tiny arrows piercing her heart, far too close to the secret wishes that have been buried in the deepest, most guarded corners of her soul, and Rachel doesn't have a fucking clue. Her smile disappears, because she _can't_ —she can't sit here and smile and nod encouragingly while Rachel tells her how important she is to her but not in _that_ way. _Never_ in _that way_. Not when Peter fucking Kendrick was probably the _someone important_ that Rachel would have rather had in that seat next to her. But of course, Rachel just keeps talking, hammering the sharp edges of those arrows deeper and deeper with every word.

"You've always believed in me, even when we weren't really friends. And now...you...you're my best friend, but you've always been so much more than that. You're there for me whenever I need you, Quinn. You skipped classes and rearranged your work schedule last year just to come see my very first show, and I was only in the ensemble. You brought me yellow roses on opening night of _West Side Story_."

 _Like the pathetic, lovesick that fool that I still am,_ Quinn thinks morosely, because she was an idiot to think for one minute that she was past these feelings. Rachel is doing a fantastic job of proving otherwise, and Quinn braces her hands against the bench, curling forward in an attempt to keep Rachel from seeing how much this is affecting her.

"You remember my favorite drink at my favorite coffee shop, and you put up with all of my...my idiosyncrasies...and eccentricities...and you actually laugh at my jokes. You're the first person that I call to share good news with, and...and the person that I most need to talk to whenever something bad happens. I can't even imagine my life without you in it. You...you're my person, Quinn. I think...I think maybe you always have been, but I...I've just...I've been so..."

"Stop," Quinn demands, unable to listen to this for one more minute. It's too much. It's everything and nothing at the same time. It's all of the right words in the absolute wrong context, and it hurts far too much because it could have been so perfect if there was even a chance that Rachel could mean any of this in more than a platonic way. "You...you need to stop," she practically begs, fighting the sting of tears that she can feel building behind her eyes.

"Oh. O-okay," Rachel stammers quietly.

Quinn closes her eyes and takes a trembling breath. "You can't say things like this to me, Rachel. You just... _can't_. Not when you don't," she stops herself before she says too much, knowing that she already has—that anyway Rachel chooses to end that sentence will undoubtedly tell her exactly how Quinn feels about her.

Of course, Rachel can't just let it go. "When I don't what?"

Losing the battle with her tears, Quinn stares down at her feet, unable to meet Rachel's eyes. "You...you have to realize...what you said... It makes it sound like...like..."

"Like you're the only one that I want," Rachel says into the silence as she gently covers Quinn's trembling hand with her own, "and not...not just as a date for the Tonys but every day."

There's a fleeting moment when the world around them slows so dramatically that Rachel's words seem to hang suspended in the air between them, and when they finally launch into motion again, they slam into Quinn with the force of a hurricane. Her tearful eyes fly helplessly to the woman next to her, finding Rachel looking back at her with an expression that Quinn has only imagined directed at her in her deepest, most private dreams. "Rachel?" she whispers uncertainly, unable to make sense of what's happening.

"I...I have feelings for you, Quinn," Rachel confesses hesitantly, "feelings that are deeper and far more complicated than I'd realized, and I know it must seem rather sudden. And unexpected, considering my past romantic preferences have been decidedly heteronormative. Although I've always considered myself to be open to love in whatever form it comes to me, I admit that I was, in fact, looking for...for a certain package," she admits, offering a contrite smile. "It's taken me longer than it should have to see what's been in front of me all along."

 _I'm dreaming_ , Quinn thinks distantly. _I have to be._ And she closes her eyes and tries to catch her breath because apparently she's been holding it the entire time Rachel's been talking—even the sudden, very real sensation of Rachel's hand determinedly grasping onto hers isn't enough to convince her that she isn't just imagining all of this.

"I...I'd really like to be more than just your friend, Quinn."

She's imagined _those words_ said _just that way_ so many times that she wonders if it's actually possible to will something into existence. She squeezes the hand that she feels inside of hers so tightly, attempting to stay anchored even as she refuses to open her eyes and wake herself up from this beautiful dream.

"But I completely understand if you...if you don't reciprocate," Rachel promises in a small voice. Quinn almost wants to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the statement, but then she realizes that Rachel is stuttering out rushed, remorseful platitudes, like, "Just tell me you don't feel anything more than friendship for me, and...and we can pretend this conversation never happened." Quinn's eyes snap open at the unwanted offer, and she sees the frustrated longing on Rachel's face, dizzily realizing that this isn't a dream. "And I'll...I'm sure that eventually I'll...I'll be able to move on...and..."

"No," Quinn immediately refuses, shaking her head. "I don't…I don't want you to move on," she admits through the tears slipping down over her cheeks. "I've been," _in love with you forever_ , she almost confesses. "I've had feelings for you for so long, Rachel. I gave up hoping that you could ever…" _Love me_ , her heart cries out, even as her tongue refuses to form the words—words that Rachel hasn't yet said. She reaches up to brush away the wetness on her cheeks before she meets Rachel's hopeful gaze with a long hidden truth. "I've learned how to live with being just your friend, Rachel, but if we...if we cross that line, I can't...I won't be able to let you go. You have to be sure," she begs, knowing that anything less will leave her heart shattered in pieces that she won't ever be able to glue back together.

Rachel doesn't say a word, but something soft and _wanting_ shines behind her eyes as she cups Quinn's cheek. Quinn is helpless to look away from what she sees—Rachel's unconcealed adoration is like a magnet pulling six years of her own muted affection for this woman right back to the surface. When Rachel moistens her lips, Quinn knows without a doubt that she's about to be kissed, and she welcomes it.

Rachel's lips are soft, like the fleeting, velvet brush of a delicate feather. The touch is nearly ephemeral but still more than enough to irrevocably alter the fabric of Quinn's existence forever. Rachel Berry is kissing her, timid and uncertain, and the weight of the moment forces the breath from Quinn's lungs before she greedily drinks in another, and then she drinks in Rachel, sliding her lips more firmly over that long dreamed-of mouth.

Quinn barely tempers her desire to possess, instead falling into a tender exploration. If Rachel suddenly decides that she was wrong—that she doesn't want this after all—then Quinn will have this moment to both cherish and despise for the rest of her life. And when Rachel pulls back, gazing into her eyes, Quinn braces herself for disappointment. But Rachel only tells her, "I'm sure."

There's no way for Quinn to battle her desire after that, so she doesn't even bother to try. Rachel _wants_ her. Rachel wants her the way that Quinn has wanted Rachel for so long, and she has no reason to hold back her own emotions anymore. She's wanted this for too long not to take the chance she's being given, potential heartbreak be damned. She threads her fingers into Rachel's hair, slipping them beneath her loose ponytail, before she captures her mouth in a kiss born from years of unrequited love. Rachel responds so beautifully, parting her lips, and Quinn silently rejoices at the invitation.

None of her dreams have ever come close to what she's feeling right now.

Quinn has never believed in fairy tales or true love or soulmates, but if she did, she knows that _this_ would be the kiss she's been waiting for—the epic, life-changing, fate-sealing kiss that binds two hearts together forever. She thinks that her heart has probably been bound to Rachel's for years now, but she finally feels like Rachel is giving hers in return, and she'll willingly take everything that Rachel is offering her.

She's vaguely aware of Rachel attempting to get even closer, or maybe it's Quinn pulling her closer, but soon their legs are tangled, and Quinn feels the weight of Rachel's body against her on the bench. Eventually, they're forced to part in order to take in some much needed air, and Quinn gazes adoringly at Rachel's pink cheeks and dazed smile as Rachel lifts a hand to brush a strand of Quinn's hair behind her ear.

"I'm really sure," Rachel repeats in awe.

Quinn hugs Rachel to her, whispering, "If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up."

Rachel's fingers play against the back of Quinn's neck as she returns the hug. "Does it feel like you're dreaming?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that, Rach," she says with a smile, shifting against Rachel in an attempt to get more comfortable on the bench while still keeping her tucked as closely into her side as possible. "I've had some pretty vivid dreams involving you."

Rachel's eyes seem to darken as she looks at Quinn. "I'd actually like to hear all about them," she admits shyly.

"Really?" Quinn asks, unable to keep the surprise from her voice at the admission, even after the way Rachel had just kissed her. She figures that it's probably going to take a little while for her to get used to being the object of Rachel's desire.

Rachel nods. "Yes, eventually. Actually, right now, I...I'd like to take you to dinner. I think we have a lot to talk about."

They've had dinner together before, many times, but everything is different now. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I am," Rachel confirms, making Quinn's heart sing with joy. "Are you saying _yes_?"

Quinn smiles giddily. "Oh, I definitely am."

"And will you be my date to the Tonys?" Rachel asks again, this time with more confidence.

Quinn grazes her teeth over her lower lip in contemplation. "Do I have to walk the carpet?" Because she's not sure that she's ready to be tossed into the middle of flashbulbs and reporters and rabid Broadway fans.

"Only if you want to. I just really want you to be sitting next to me," Rachel explains with soft eyes.

The urge to place a gentle kiss against the corner of Rachel's brow is too much to resist, and with a sense of wonder, she realizes that she doesn't have to anymore. She can kiss Rachel, touch her, be affectionate with her whenever she wants, and if Rachel wants Quinn to be her date, to dinner or the Tony Awards or anywhere in the world, "Then I will be."

"I really have been blind, haven't I?" Rachel muses regretfully, snuggling deeper into Quinn's embrace.

Quinn holds her even closer as she stares at the statue in front of them. "Yeah, you kind of have," she acknowledges, thinking of all the moments when she'd silently screamed for Rachel to look at her and see the truth behind her eyes and to hear her carefully worded pleas for Rachel to choose her even while she refused to make it clear that she was a choice. For as much as Quinn has tried to bury it all and move on from it, she's never quite managed to keep her feelings for Rachel from bubbling to the surface.

She feels the insistent press of Rachel's fingers against her jaw, urging her gaze back to the woman in her arms. "My eyes are finally open, Quinn, and so is my heart."

Quinn hears the promise in her voice, but more than that, she sees it in the bottomless depths of Rachel's eyes and feels it in her gentle touch. This is real. This is happening. She's finally going to be with Rachel. "Today really is the most beautiful day," Quinn murmurs before she kisses the woman she loves again.

And _yes_ —the second kiss is every bit as amazing as the first. Quinn vaguely wonders if it's possible to just stay here like this forever, but then she remembers that Rachel had asked her to dinner, and they really do have a lot to talk about. Like, how long has Rachel been feeling this way? Why now? What changed? Just how strong are Rachel's deep and complicated feelings for her? And why are they complicated?

That has Quinn pulling back from the kiss with a tiny frown. Rachel sees it immediately, and her own lips turn down in response. "What's wrong?"

Quinn shakes her head, unwilling to voice any of her jumbled thoughts right now. They have time. "It's just hard for me to believe this is really happening."

"It is," Rachel assures her, smiling again. "And so is our date," she promises. "Dinner on me, anywhere you want to go. As long as the dress code is casual," she adds with a sheepish grin, tugging at the hem of her denim shorts.

Quinn's gaze helplessly travels over Rachel's body. "You look perfect," she breathes, ghosting her fingertips over the soft skin of Rachel's thigh—because she can do that now. "Gorgeous, actually," she amends as her focus shifts to Rachel's curved lips. And then—because she can—she dips her head and brushes her own lips across the tempting, pink flesh. A little moan escapes from the back of Rachel's throat, and Quinn smiles against her mouth. "Amazing," she murmurs before deepening the kiss. The third kiss is most definitely a charm, and Rachel whimpers softly under Quinn's coaxing mouth. She really could stay here and do this all day, and she doesn't think Rachel would object.

 _Rachel won't object! Because she wants me!_

Once again overwhelmed with love and giddy happiness, Quinn releases Rachel's mouth. "I really like this kissing thing."

Rachel's eyes are still closed, her cheeks are pink, and her lips are parted and glistening. "Me too," she whispers with an adorably dazed nod, opening her eyes to reveal dilated pupils. "A lot."

She slides her fingers into Quinn's hair and tugs her head back down, kissing her with short little nips to her lower lip, then her upper, and then back down to repeat the process.

Quinn suppresses a moan. "We should…probably go," she mumbles between kisses, "before _we_ get arrested for public indecency."

Rachel hums—whether in agreement or mild protest, Quinn isn't exactly sure—before she lets her hand drop away from Quinn's hair and leans back, licking her own lips. "Where are we going?" she asks a little breathlessly.

 _To bed_ , pops into Quinn's head unbidden, but she quickly shakes it off. Everything already feels like it's happening so fast—she won't rush it. They really do have things to talk about.

"Dinner," Quinn says. "That vegan place you like isn't far away."

That seems to shake Rachel fully out of her kiss-induced haze. "The Candle Café?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah." She's pretty sure that's the name of the place she was thinking of.

A warm smile pulls at the edges of Rachel's mouth. "That's very sweet of you, Quinn, but I'd rather take you somewhere that you'll enjoy."

Quinn sighs. "I won't enjoy my food if you're stuck eating a salad. I can eat anything. Even vegan," she admits with a playful roll of her eyes.

Rachel's eyes go soft and her smile tender as she cups Quinn's cheek. "This," she says pointedly. "This is why I'm sure of you." And then her lips are brushing against Quinn's in a chaste, feathery kiss, and Quinn inexplicably feels moisture gather in her eyes again. Blinking it away, she smiles and twines her fingers with Rachel's.

"Come on. You have a dinner to buy me."

Rachel grins and nods, and together they rise from the bench—it's going to be _their_ bench from now on, Quinn decides, just like that statue is going to be their spot. They walk hand-in-hand out of the park. It's such a simple thing really, holding hands, but the impact it has on Quinn is immeasurable. She's holding hands with Rachel, the woman she loves, as they walk together through the city on the first day of the rest of their lives. Anyone who looks at them will be seeing a couple on their first date, and Quinn wants to announce it to every person they pass.

She glances at Rachel as they walk and sees the dreamy smile on her lips, and she figures that she's probably wearing an identical one. She doesn't let go of Rachel's hand until they've been guided to a tiny table in the back corner of The Candle Café and handed menus by the hostess.

Rachel gazes at her menu for a moment before shyly glancing up at Quinn. "Are you sure this is okay? We can still eat somewhere else."

Quinn shakes her head. "It's fine, Rach. There's a lot to choose from here."

It's not a lie. There are salads, wraps, and pasta options that look interesting, along with a quinoa "burger" and a Portobello "steak," though Quinn doesn't think she'll ever fully support those pale substitutes for meat. Ultimately, she decides on the eggplant napoleon and a glass of chardonnay—if ever there's an occasion for a celebratory glass of wine, it's today. Rachel opts for the ginger miso stir fry and her own glass of chardonnay.

After the waitress takes their orders, there's a moment where they only gaze at one another with soft smiles. There are so many things that Quinn wants to say and more that she wants to ask, but she doesn't have a clue where to begin or even if she should. Maybe they should wait until they're truly alone for some of the intimate confessions that Quinn can feel dancing on the tip of her tongue. It almost feels too big—like standing at the base of a sheer cliff and not knowing where to put that first foothold to begin the climb.

The waitress returns with their wine, and they both take a sip almost simultaneously. When Rachel lowers her glass, she's smiling over the rim. "So, this is us on a date," she comments, breaking the silence.

Quinn laughs at the observation. "Yeah." She watches as Rachel demurely glances down and catches her lower lip between her teeth, blushing as she tries to stifle a giggle. "What?" Quinn prompts with a curious grin.

Rachel shakes her head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I just…I'm on a date with Quinn Fabray," she explains, making Quinn's name sound almost like a benediction. "I think the majority of the boys that we went to school with fantasized about being with you like this…and probably some of the girls too," she adds with a thoughtful frown.

"But not you," Quinn recognizes. "Not then."

"No," Rachel admits. "But as you've reminded me on more than one occasion, I had terrible taste in high school."

Quinn bites back a laugh. "With your fashion choices."

Rachel nods slowly. "And Finn."

Quinn sighs, tapping her fingernail against the stem of her wine glass. It would be easy to just agree with her and leave it at that. Quinn has had her issues with Finn Hudson, some—well, _most—_ directly or indirectly related to Rachel and others solely as a result of their own tempestuous interactions, but she can't exactly condemn Rachel for having fallen for him. It was high school, after all, and Finn had all the necessary elements to make a pretty decent high school boyfriend. "Trying to marry him certainly wasn't your smartest decision," she points out mildly, "but I dated him too."

"I know. I…I think that made him more desirable somehow," Rachel confesses haltingly. "I mean, he was Cheerio Quinn Fabray's boyfriend."

"Don't rewrite our history, Rachel," Quinn warns with a small frown. As much as she wishes otherwise, she was nothing more than a speedbump on Rachel's path to Finn. "You loved him."

"Yes. I did," Rachel agrees, unashamed. "But…the name Finn Hudson meant nothing to me until he joined the glee club, Quinn. I'd seen him in the halls before then, of course, but I'd ungraciously categorized him as another dumb jock and never gave him a second thought until I heard him sing," she reveals, and Quinn actually believes her about that. She can remember what Rachel had been like back then—her often obsessive tendencies still focused solely on her future stardom and the school's music and theater programs. And, well—Finn had kind of fit the stereotype more than most.

"And then he told me that he was dating you," Rachel continues unimpeded, "and…it unarguably increased my interest him. I was already very aware of who you were and what activities you were involved in and had been from the very first day of our freshman year when you sat next to me in English class. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah. I remember," Quinn acknowledges, not quite meeting Rachel's eyes. She'd been brand new to McKinley and the district, having only met the girls on the cheerleading squad and some of the other freshmen hopefuls during summer tryouts. She was determined to reinvent herself after her dismal experience at Belleville, but she hadn't yet fully settled into her new identity as _Quinn_ or everything that would eventually come with it. She'd never intended to become as mean-spirited as the kids who'd once tormented her, but somehow that's exactly what had happened. But on that very first day of high school, she'd just been a girl sitting next to another girl who'd seemed nice enough, if a little overly excitable.

"I'd already seen you in the hall earlier that morning, proudly wearing your cheerleading uniform," Rachel recalls with a curiously fond smile. "I was pleasantly surprised when you sat down next to me, and then you picked up my pen after I dropped it and handed it to me with a smile. You even told me that you liked my sweater."

Quinn blushes at that, vaguely remembering the soft, yellow sweater that had matched Rachel's headband exactly and how she'd thought that the combination nicely contrasted her dark hair and complexion. In retrospect, it had been one of Rachel's more normal outfits, complete with a very short plaid skirt that had actually matched the ensemble.

"I…I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen," Rachel continues. "And for that one day, you…you were so soft-spoken and polite. I thought maybe we could be friends."

"Until I showed you what a bitch I could be." Quinn finishes miserably. She'd been told, quite quickly by the rest of the squad, who she should and should not be associating with if she wanted to keep her uniform. Quinn wasn't about to lose her new, hard-earned position, and Rachel was on the _do not associate_ list, so that had been that.

Rachel reaches across the table and settles her hand on top of Quinn's, curling her fingers to give her a reassuring squeeze. "It's funny," she muses. "Even then…I still saw you as that girl who'd liked my sweater and smiled at me on the first day of school. I used to think that was why I was so determined to make you my friend…because I believed that I'd met the real you that day and wanted to find that girl again. But now," she trails off, gazing at Quinn with tenderness.

"Now what?" Quinn prods, curious.

Rachel shrugs. "I've just been questioning a lot of things about our mutual past recently."

"What things?"

"I've always felt so drawn to you, Quinn, so determined to have you in my life and to…to make you like me. I'm not trying to rewrite our history," Rachel is quick to clarify, stroking her thumb along the back of Quinn's hand. "I haven't always wanted you the way I do right now, but I've always wanted you near me in _some_ way. Looking back, I wonder why it never occurred to me to question _why_ you were always so important to me, even when you hated me."

"I never hated you, Rachel," Quinn assures her, turning her hand over to tangle their fingers together. "I hated…what liking you would mean for me."

Rachel smiles ruefully. "Befriending the unpopular girl would have undoubtedly damaged your reputation."

Quinn could stay quiet and let Rachel believe it was that simple—and that was certainly part of it at first—but this is one of those intimate confessions that's been on the tip of her tongue for _years_. "No, Rachel. It was more than that. I hated that you made me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling. Things I wasn't ready to accept about myself." Things like the fact that she'd always been unaccountably fascinated with Rachel, and some part of her had recognized that indulging that fascination would have led her down a path of sin (or so she'd been taught) and destruction—a path that she'd ended up tumbling down anyway in much more destructive ways.

Rachel's eyes widen. "You…? Oh," she breathes, the soft exclamation barely audible. "That long?"

Quinn isn't sure that she can really give a simple _yes_ or _no_ answer. Between her jumbled teenage hormones and her denial and her determination to move on with her life, her feelings for Rachel have ebbed and flowed like the tide against the sands, and it's hard to pinpoint the high and low water marks. She'd fallen for Rachel in grudging increments, like those same pieces of sand being slowly carried out to sea, and she was already drowning in it before she'd even noticed that her feet had gotten wet. She'd been left to struggle on her own until college, when she'd been tossed a life-vest and pulled out, getting her feet back on solid ground again for a while—until she'd stepped too close to the edge and fallen back in.

She's saved from voicing any part of her ridiculous metaphor by the arrival of their meals, and she lets go of Rachel's hand, leaning back in her chair to give the waitress room to set down their plates.

"We should talk about this later. After dinner," she decides, eyes begging Rachel to be patient with her. "I don't want to end up crying into my eggplant."

Disappointment dances through Rachel's eyes. "Oh. Okay. Yes," she agrees with a firm nod. "Later." She picks up her fork and turns her attention to her plate. Relieved, Quinn does the same thing, just about to take the first bite of her dinner when Rachel asks, "You're not just saying that with no intention of revisiting the subject later?"

"No," Quinn promises. "I need to tell you everything. But it's a lot, Rachel. This is…it's a lot to process all at once."

Rachel nods. "Yes, it is." For a moment, she turns her attention back to her food, and Quinn finally does get to take that first bite, pleasantly surprised by the flavor she encounters. She's barely swallowed when she hears, "I can't believe I didn't know. You…you came out to me in college," Rachel laments, shaking her head, "and I didn't even consider that you might…that you'd feel that way about me."

Quinn sighs and lays down her fork. "You didn't want to know."

"That's not true, Quinn!" Rachel argues, leaning forward. "I most certainly would have wanted to know this!"

Quinn almost laughs. "You'd just broken off your engagement with Finn, and you were already dating that guy, Daniel. You didn't want to know," she repeats stubbornly. Quinn should know—she'd been looking for even the smallest hint that her revelation might have sparked a romantic interest in her from Rachel, but all she'd seen was her friend's excitement to organize a group outing to the local pride festivities. Quinn wasn't about to add a _by the way, I'm kind of in love with you_ to her coming out speech. "It would have made everything messier and more complicated, and for what? You only saw me as a friend."

Rachel is silent for a moment, unable to argue the point. "I don't anymore" she quietly vows.

Quinn nods, moistening her lips. "When exactly did that change?"

"Maybe that's something else that we should discuss in more detail after dinner," Rachel suggests.

Quinn can't exactly protest against her own logic repeated back to her. The things they both need to say and hear have already proven to have the ability to make them extremely emotional. So with a nod, she picks up her fork to enjoy the rest of her meal and the company, determined to keep the conversation a little lighter for the moment.

The success of her efforts is somewhat undecided. There's a mildly awkward silence that's followed by a short discussion on the quality of their food before Rachel launches into a detailed description of the dress that she intends to wear to the Tonys and instruction for Quinn to coordinate her outfit accordingly—offering suggestions on style, color, and shops that they can browse through together this weekend. Quinn's head is spinning with the plans that Rachel is already making for them, but she's looking forward to every one of them.

They don't linger over dinner and drinks. There's an unspoken agreement between them to find someplace quiet and private to continue their evening. Quinn's stomach erupts in butterflies just thinking about it. When the check comes, they both reach for it, but Rachel is faster, snatching it right out from under Quinn's fingers. Quinn allows her to pay without protest—she was the one to ask Quinn to dinner, after all.

Exiting the restaurant, Rachel slips her hand back into Quinn's like it's the most natural thing in the world—maybe it is. "So… your place or mine?" she asks cheekily.

Rachel's apartment is technically closer—a twenty minute walk from where they are now—but getting to Quinn's place will take just about the same amount of time on the subway. Maybe it's a little selfish, but Quinn decides that she'd rather continue their evening on her own turf. After all, she's the one who has to be up early tomorrow morning for work while Rachel has the benefit of not needing to be at the theatre until the late afternoon. "Mine," Quinn informs her with a grin, watching Rachel's eyes dance as she nods her agreement.

As it turns out, the biggest advantage of taking the subway to Quinn's place is being crowded into two seats by the door where they're able to practically sit on top of one another, touching and grinning and kissing and generally ignoring everything around them as they're shuttled from point A to point B without the need to separate for a moment. Quinn has never before cared to engage in frequent public displays of affection, but today, demonstrating even a fraction of restraint feels like an insurmountable task. She vaguely wonders if it's simply the culmination of so many years of wanting to touch Rachel this way or if this is how it's always going to be with her.

The walk from the subway to Quinn's apartment passes in a comfortable silence with Rachel's hand tucked into the crook of Quinn's elbow and a look of absolute contentment on her face. Rachel has been to Quinn's apartment numerous times in the past year, sometimes stopping by for a few minutes after a day out and about and other times vegging out for an afternoon while they watch television and bitch about their weeks. But today, when she opens the door and leads Rachel inside, it feels far more intimate than it ever has, and Quinn's eyes dart around to ensure that the place is suitably presentable for company. She spots her briefcase thrown across the sofa where she'd left it and makes a move to pick it up, quickly tucking it onto the floor beside the wall to get it out of the way.

"Sorry for the mess," she mutters apologetically as she turns back to Rachel, finding her much closer than she'd expected.

"It's flawless," Rachel murmurs, slipping her arms around Quinn's waist and leaning into her body—and _oh yeah_! This is nice—this having Rachel pressed so intimately against her. It's so much better than the friendliest of friendly hugs, and then Rachel is rocking up onto her toes and kissing Quinn again, and _nice_ doesn't even come close. Quinn curls her fingers into the belt loops on Rachel's shorts (to keep her from immediately groping Rachel's ass) and kisses her back with six years worth of unsated desire.

Kissing Rachel in the park had been perfection, but this is the very definition of temptation—finally alone, just the two of them, with every one of Rachel's curves pressed tightly against her own and no reason to ever stop touching her. Except that Rachel is pulling back, breathless and flushed and gazing at Quinn through dark, awestruck eyes. "So, you really had feelings for me in high school?" she questions inelegantly, taking Quinn by surprise and effectively dowsing her libido.

"Leave it to you to jump right back to that the moment we're alone," Quinn groans playfully, untangling herself from Rachel's arms before she sinks down onto the sofa.

Rachel drops down beside her, smiling sheepishly as she settles into a position half-facing Quinn. "I can't help it, Quinn. You were the pretty, blonde cheerleader, and I was," she trails off, shrugging helplessly, "me."

Quinn reaches over to find Rachel's hand, tangling their fingers together. "Yeah, you were _you_." And it breaks her heart to know that she's partially responsible for Rachel's lingering belief that just being her is somehow inferior. It's so very much the opposite of that. "Outspoken, passionate, demanding, borderline fanatical…"

"Hey!" Rachel protests with a pout.

"Ambitious, talented," Quinn continues undeterred, "too forgiving for your own good," she adds, thinking of all her callous words and hurtful actions that Rachel has forgiven. She pauses then to lift their entwined hands, pressing a soft kiss beneath Rachel's knuckles. "Beautiful," she murmurs, gazing deeply into Rachel's glistening eyes as she slowly lowers their hands. "Incredibly sexy. And I'm so sorry that I ever made you believe otherwise."

Rachel drags in a trembling breath, shaking her head in denial. "Don't. You've already apologized for all of the things that you said back then, and I've forgiven you. A thousand times over," she vows with a tender smile. "But teenaged drama aside, I know that I'm not conventionally beautiful, Quinn. Not the way that you are."

Quinn frowns. "Who cares about convention? You're gorgeous." She feels more than qualified to say that—she's spent enough time over the years secretly admiring each and every one of Rachel's distinctive features.

Rachel ducks her head, softly biting into her lip while a blush tints her cheeks. "You have to know…hearing you tell me that now and knowing that you really mean it…it feels like a dream." Her eyes fall closed, blocking out the world. "Especially when there's a part of me that still feels like that socially awkward fifteen-year-old that no one liked." Quinn feels a sharp twist inside her chest for her part in that, and it intensifies when Rachel opens her wounded eyes and admits, "Maybe that's part of the reason I held on so tightly to Finn for so long…because I couldn't imagine having someone else ever love me that way. It seemed like the kind of thing that could only ever happen to me once."

"Oh, Rach. No," Quinn denies, tightening her hold on Rachel's hand. "Finn was never the only one who felt that way about you."

"I know," Rachel is quick to assure her, offering a tearful smile. "I know that _now_. But I still never imagined that _you_ could feel that way about me? Don't you see? You're the girl that everyone wants, Quinn. To be with or be friends with or just have you notice them. You walk into a room and every head turns to look at you, including mine," she confesses without hesitation. "And I don't understand how I could have ever made yours turn for me. Other than stealing your boyfriend, that is," she tacks on guiltily.

Quinn smiles ruefully. "Well, that certainly got my attention. But, Rachel, you…you're just this unstoppable force," she muses with unmasked affection. "Loud and bright and impossible to ignore. I've known from the moment that I met you that you were destined for amazing things. I envied you at first…for your talent, your ambition, your confidence…and then I admired you for them. And yeah, I gave you a hard time about everything more often than not," she says tactfully, briefly glancing away as she moistens her lips. The way she'd treated Rachel back then is a regret that she'll always have to live with. "But you never backed down, and more than that…for some reason, you wanted to be my friend. You always believed that I was more than the bitchy, ex-cheerleader who got knocked up in high school."

"Because you _are_ , Quinn," Rachel interrupts fervently. "You're _so much_ more than that. You're the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman that I've ever known. I've always seen you that way."

"And that's why, Rachel," Quinn explains, shifting closer to her on the sofa. "That's how you turned my head. How could you not?" she wonders, remembering all those little moments over the course of their complicated history when Rachel had casually offered her a smile or a nod or a few words of encouragement that had kept Quinn grounded and stopped her from spiraling completely out of control or doing something that she knows she would have regretted forever. "You've always seen the best in me," she says with a trace of wonder in her voice as she gazes deeply into Rachel's expressive eyes.

"When I realized how important you'd become to me, I was terrified. And even if I hadn't been, it wouldn't have mattered because you were in love with Finn." Rachel winces faintly at that, her eyes filling with remorse, so Quinn offers her a reassuring smile. "So I tried to ignore what I felt for you…to make it go away…to just be your friend because that's what you needed me to be. And because I wanted you in my life in whatever way I could have you. And for a while, I really thought that I'd managed to do that…but I know now that I was wrong. You've always meant so much more to me. You stole my heart when I was seventeen, and you never gave it back."

There are tears glistening in Rachel's eyes by the time Quinn is finished talking, sneaking out over her lower lashes. The fingers tangled up with Quinn's hand tighten, and Rachel lifts her free hand to cup Quinn's cheek. "Oh, Quinn," she coos shakily, murmuring, "Baby," as her fingers reverently stroke Quinn's face.

Quinn's breath catches. "Baby?"

Rachel's hand falls away from her cheek. "Is…is that okay?" she asks uncertainly. "To call you that?"

Honestly, Quinn had never much cared for the endearment the handful of times that Finn or Puck or Sam had attempted to call her that, but something about the way it sounds falling from Rachel's lips makes her feel warm all the way to her toes. "It's more than okay."

Rachel smiles softly, briefly dipping her head to brush away her tears. She laughs soundlessly at her own emotional reaction before meeting Quinn's eyes again. "I can't tell you that you've had my heart for quite that long," she admits sadly.

Quinn nods. "I know."

She watches Rachel echo the gesture, momentarily chewing on her lower lip while she silently composes her thoughts. Her tongue peeks out to soothe the worried flesh just before she begins to speak. "A few weeks ago, I had something of an epiphany, and I realized that my…my feelings for you aren't entirely new. Strangely enough, it happened while I was having dinner with Peter."

"Rachel," Quinn interrupts with a frown, not particularly wanting to talk about Rachel's ex again.

"I know you don't like him," Rachel rushes out, "and now I know why. It's the same reason that I never liked Sarah."

"Sarah?" Quinn repeats in surprise. "But that was…" _Years ago!_ It's no secret that Rachel and Sarah had never managed to become friends the way Quinn had hoped they would, and while she'd known Sarah's reasons for that, she'd always assumed that Rachel just hadn't had enough in common with her girlfriend to pursue a relationship outside of the polite—well, polite for _Rachel_ —interaction they'd had in Quinn's presence. But what she's implying now—she couldn't have been _jealous,_ could she? "Rachel?"

"I didn't understand what it meant at the time," Rachel says with a slight shake of her head, as if she can't quite believe that she'd missed something that should have been so obvious to her. "I only knew that I hated seeing you with her, even though she made you happy for some reason entirely beyond my grasp," she grumbles with a frown, and Quinn bites back an inappropriate smile because Sarah really had made her very happy for a time. Rachel closes her eyes and takes a breath. "I know it was so wrong of me, but I was glad when you broke up," she declares before slowly opening her eyes again and anxiously gazing at Quinn in search of disappointment or disgust. Maybe Quinn should be feeling some of those darker emotions at finding out that her best friend had been secretly wishing for her last relationship to fail, but she can't seem to muster any up—not when she'd been carrying a secret torch for Rachel at the same time.

Seemingly assured by whatever she sees in Quinn's expression, Rachel moistens her lips before continuing on. "I was glad because it meant that you'd be in New York with _me_ , and I wouldn't have to worry about her taking you away from me anymore." She smiles ruefully at the confession of her own selfish desires. "It meant that I got to see you whenever I wanted, and you wouldn't be disappearing back to New Haven on the weekends, so we could go out to lunch or dinner or to the theater or the park or a movie and spend hours talking about everything and anything," she rambles without pausing for a breath. "And I loved that, Quinn. I have loved every moment that we've spent together, and for the last year…probably even longer…I've been marking all of my days by the next time I get to see you or talk to you."

It's such a simple admission, but hearing it calms much of Quinn's concern about the seeming suddenness of Rachel's deeper feelings for her. Maybe this really has been building for a while now. "I love our time together too," Quinn assures her, smiling blissfully at the knowledge that Rachel has been cherishing it every bit as much as she has.

Rachel returns the smile, but she isn't done talking yet. "Sitting across from Peter that night and listening to him talk about the West End and all the historic places that he'd visited in London and Paris, all I could think about was how much you would have loved all of that." She laughs a little then, admitting, "I even told him as much." She shakes her head again before catching Quinn's eyes and staring into them intently. "And when he asked me how you'd been, I couldn't stop talking about you, Quinn. It was like I was bragging about my beautiful, successful girlfriend, except you weren't. I spent most of the evening finding ways to connect everything Peter said back to you…and I spent the rest of it making comparisons only to realize that so many of the things that had drawn me to him in the first place were the things that reminded me of you."

Rachel pauses to take another breath, and Quinn suddenly realizes that she's been holding hers. Her heart beats erratically as she hangs on Rachel's every word, listening to her voice things that Quinn has only dreamed of hearing until now.

"And honestly, Quinn, I knew in that moment that I would have rather been on that date with you…that I practically _have_ been dating you for the last year, and it's the happiest that I've ever been in my life," Rachel reveals softly, holding Quinn's hand between both of hers. "And I don't ever want to date anyone else, and I definitely don't want _you_ to date anyone else, because I've been slowly falling in love with you for so long now."

There's no need to hold her breath anymore, because Rachel has just taken it away completely. With the little air that she manages to pull into her lungs, Quinn tearfully begs her to, "Say that again."

"All of it?" Rachel asks hesitantly. "Because I might have been rambling just a little."

She's so adorable. Quinn really wants to kiss her. But not yet. "The last part."

Rachel's mouth pulls into an almost shy smile, but her voice is strong and certain when she says, "I love you, Quinn. I'm _in_ love with you. I can't give you the exact moment that it happened, but I know that I'm already in so deep that I can't remember what it feels like _not_ to love you."

Quinn closes her eyes, memorizing the moment—the softness of Rachel's hands against her skin, the warmth of her voice, the scent of her shampoo. "One more time," she pleads softly, opening her eyes. "Say it one more time. Please."

"I love you. I'll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if you want me to," she promises, and nothing has ever sounded more perfect to Quinn. Rachel _loves_ her. Her own love bubbles up and spills over in joyful tears that she doesn't even try to contain. "Oh," Rachel murmurs, reaching up to lightly run a thumb across the moisture on Quinn's cheek. "Happy tears, right?"

Quinn laughs, reaching up to help Rachel wipe away her tears. "The happiest," she assures Rachel with a nod. "I love you too, Rach. I'm so in love with you."

Rachel's breath hitches. "Oh, wow," she whispers in awe. "That sounds so much better than I imagined it would."

"It really does," Quinn agrees, closing the small distance between them to seal their mutual declarations with a kiss.

Like their very first kiss in the park, it starts soft, with a fleeting brush of lips against lips—a silent celebration to mark this new phase of their relationship—but it's only a moment before they both press for more. The faint taste of salt tickles Quinn's tongue, chased by the sweetness of Rachel's mouth. Now that they're behind closed doors, Quinn allows her hands to stray, skimming over curves that she's traced with her eyes ten thousand times, and she allows all of her fantasies to break free from the cage that she's kept them in for so long. She won't act on them— _yet_ —but knowing that they all might be fulfilled in the very near future makes her tremble from the sudden rush of desire.

Rachel can't contain the moan that vibrates between them, and she scrambles to get closer, practically crawling into Quinn's lap. The way their bodies seem to fit together so effortlessly is a dangerous temptation, and Quinn battles to urge to stop and pray—because she thinks that she might just need some divine intervention to be able to resist taking things too far and much too fast. She feels like she's been waiting for Rachel forever, but this relationship is too precious to begin in the bedroom. She wants to savor every second of their journey from friends to lovers.

Dragging her lips away from their new favorite place, Quinn leans back, grinning at the little whimper that slips from Rachel's mouth at the forced separation. She opens her palms over Rachel's back, relishing the heat that seeps into her skin through the fabric of Rachel's shirt. "Be my girlfriend?" she asks, gazing into beautiful dark eyes.

A playful grin tugs at Rachel's lips. "Was it not already understood that I officially became your girlfriend the moment you kissed me in the park this afternoon?"

Quinn laughs. "It wasn't actually."

"Well, it really should have been," Rachel chastises. "You know I don't do anything by halves, Quinn. I already have matching couple's calendars picked out for us."

"I really do love you, Rachel," Quinn repeats with an indulgent smile, "but you'd better be joking about the calendars." She'd caught sight of the one that Rachel had made back in high school for Finn and had nightmares about being followed around by a tiny, kitten Rachel for weeks.

"Umm…okay," Rachel says slowly, her grin flipping into a thoughtful frown. "Would you agree to matching day planners?" she tries hopefully.

Quinn chuckles, shaking her head. "Monochromatic with no Photoshop involved," she negotiates.

Rachel huffs in disappointment, affecting her best pout. "But I was going to decorate them with little stars."

Quinn thinks her girlfriend— _her girlfriend!_ —is absolutely adorable, and she wonders if she'll ever be able to refuse her anything. "I suppose I can deal with a star or two," she concedes.

Rachel positively beams at her. "You won't be sorry," she promises, shimmying closer and trailing her fingers in tiny circles over the back of Quinn's neck. "I'm going to be the best girlfriend you've ever had."

Quinn shivers in delight, loving the way that sounds and loving Rachel even more. "You're off to a really good start," she murmurs, leaning in to catch her girlfriend's lips.

She'd started the day thinking that it would be just like all her other Thursdays, spending time with her best friend and ignoring all the secret wishes in her heart before going home alone. She'd never dreamed that she would end the day with Rachel in her arms, transforming Quinn's life from _mostly_ happy to blissfully euphoric with a few beautiful words and breathtaking kisses. She never wants this day to end, but she can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

With Rachel.


End file.
